


Winter Rose

by Zip001



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-08-19 21:20:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8225119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zip001/pseuds/Zip001
Summary: valar morekinks PromptSansa Dustin/Jon SnowSansa Dustin, Barbery's heir and only child falls for Jon Snow.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [riahchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/riahchan/gifts).



> I think there is more to the story but not sure if it is more than I can really do justice to if at all. Bows head.

She saw that whenever her mother appeared, how all loud talk and frivolity stopped. The men and women feared her, the Lady of Barrowton.

There were even rumors that her fearsome uncle, Lord Roose Bolton, was much beholden to her powerful mother, needing her support and her men. They had bit of distance after her aunt's death and especially after the death of Domeric, for which her mother blamed both Lord Bolton and his bastard. Her mother told her to stay far from the Boltons, especially Ramsay. Although she loved to ride, like her mother and aunt, she could only ride with a small force around her in case Ramsay were to catch her. The surviving Boltons were not blood - they were only political allies just right now. Trust only went so far. 

But her mother's unbridled hatred and distrust were reserved for the Starks. She cursed each and every one from the dead (former Warden Rickard Stark, Brandon Stark, and Lyanna Stark) to the living (from the current Warden Ned Stark all the way to his brat Rickon). Sansa knew this, and she understood. There were people of the North that although they feared her mother, they did not truly respect her and mocked her behind her back; and the reason were the Starks who publicly shamed and wronged her mother. She hated them with every fibre of her body. 

Most never saw her mother's kindness or her dry sense of humor. But her mum was actually the kindest and funniest person she knew. Life was hard for her mother, without Father who died when she was a toddler. Then her mother's beloved older sister died, and thereafter young, sweet gentle Domeric. Domeric was like a brother to Sansa, so sweet and funny that he even made her mother wryly smile in public. With each death, her mother clung to her, trying to make her stronger and more resilient, not the foolish girl her mother was when she gave her most precious gift to Brandon Stark. Men - they all leave one way or another. Even so-called noble Eddard Stark betrayed his wife. Her mother told Sansa that she had to steel her heart and use men as the tools they were. Each tool has its purpose - and her uncle, Lord Roose Bolton, was a blunt instrument that would be used to destroy the Starks.

So it was surprising when the Warden and his family stopped at Barrowton. They received a raven that they were to host the Starks and their party. The Warden wanted to renew the ties to Barrowton, to renegotiate their trading contracts that were to expire. Upon hearing the news, her mother almost spat out her wine, growling that they expected to housed, dined and wined when they should be lucky to leave her home alive. Her mother's men were mostly out ranging, trying to protect their people from brigands (and her mother told her from Ramsay and his Bastard Boys). She knew that it was mostly talk because her mother would never be one to violate guest rights. Some things were so sacred and true.

The Lady's migraines got worse after hearing of the news, and Sansa stepped in her mother's role to prepare for the guests, knowing that it was best to house them far from the main house, from her mother. Although she was capable like her mother, Sansa did not yet have her razor sharp tongue. The household more happily and efficiently readied Barrow Hall for the Stark party. 

Quickly skimming the message, Sansa was surprised that the Warden was not only bringing his eldest true born son, Robb, he was also bringing his bastard, Jon Snow. That last addition was a pure insult as the bastard had never before left Winterfell although his younger trueborn siblings Arya and Bran have traveled with their father to the other Northern keeps before. Perhaps that was the news that incapacitated her mother. Like Ramsay, the bastard would be housed in the barn or the soldier's barracks. He was not to eat with them in the dining hall.

Her mother did not leave her room even when the party arrived at the Gate. As her mother's only child, Sansa greeted the guests coolly as her mother would have wanted. She quickly pulled her hand away when the Warden held it in greeting. Keeping her head high, she barely acknowledged the young Stark heir, whose hair almost matched hers, the color of her father's red steed; and she frostily ignored the bastard altogether. Her household directed the party to their lodgings. 

There were so much to do, to attend to, that she needed a moment to rest, to calm her nerves, as she would likely have to host the feast and give a longer welcoming speech. Sansa went to the stables and hugged her horse, a foal of her father's great war steed. Her horse promptly slobbered on her as she was wont to do. That made her giggle even though her Northern braids were drenched with horse spit. She heard a loud guffaw and saw the bastard laughing at her.

"What is so funny?" she demanded in a tone of voice her mother used when she was displeased.

"You. You are covered in horse spit," that arse replied.

"You are a horrible man with atrocious manners, mocking a lady!" Sansa screamed. She knew that her mother would have scolded her for losing her temper - she was letting a man, nay a bastard, get an upper hand in their exchange. 

Jon responded with laughing even louder, gasping and wheezing that she did not act like any lady he knew.

With nostrils flaring, Sansa called him a bastard and ordered him to leave her be.

That was when he mockingly told her that her servant boys directed to the barn as his lodging, that she was in fact intruding in his room, but since he is a better host than she, he would not order her to leave his room. 

It was at that moment she felt some shame - they had plenty of empty rooms for the relatively small party that the Warden brought, but she never thought to house him in one of those rooms. And when she thought about Redwing slobbering on her, she realized that it was funny. She was giggling when he was laughing at her. It was her pride that was hurt, but she was not the powerful Lady of House Dustin. She had done naught to be proud of yet. Her mother said that it took a strong person to admit faults. Instead of leaving sheepishly, she looked up into his grey eyes and sincerely apologized for her behavior. When he smiled in return, Sansa felt something that her mother warned her against, an attraction to him and a desire to make him smile again. Her eyes hardened again, thinking that he probably used that same charm, the puppy eyes, the pouty lips, that long curly locks, on many ladies and probably serving girls as well. His smile faltered when she left in a huff.

Her mother was still not well enough to attend the feast. Hearing the stupid comments from the Stark men about her mother's shame, about how she was a harlot that threw herself at Brandon Stark, Sansa could understand why her mother hated most men. She drew herself up straight - she was tall for her age, taller than some of the men. She swept in to the dining hall and glared at them all, her icy blue eyes burned at them all. Even the Warden stepped back at her angry gaze, she peremptory gave her terse welcome to their guests, sat down and began to eat quickly. The sooner she finished, the quicker she could leave. 

When the young heir asked about her day, she at first thought to ignore him, but decided to answer with "Fine", hoping that he would shut up. But the fool kept on talking and laughing, even mentioning that she made such an impression on his brother Jon who was shocked that she was the blue rose personified, coldly beautiful with such sharp thorns. 

At the mention of his name, she looked at the large doorway and saw him eating outside with some members of her household who were displaced by the "guests." When he felt her eyes on him, he turned around. It was as if she was hit by lightening - there was such hunger and primal desire in his eyes. He wanted to pluck her flower. Bastards she recalled her mother telling, born from lust, and as such, are lustful and wanton liars, never to be trusted. She looked quickly away.

Her food tasted like ash as Sansa felt his heated gaze on her. He knew, damn him, the effect he had on her, like the way he had on other women. Sansa noticed many of the female servers were outside, and she used that observation to break from his spell. She would not shame her mother. But like a good girl, she finished her meal, knowing that once winter truly comes, they would be lucky to have even half of the food they wasted on the Starks. Waste not, want not as her mother said.

Standing up, she looked at her guests and her men who rose with her. There was a momentary feeling of pride - they were of the North! With a strong clarion voice, she announced that she was retiring but she has asked the servers to open one more large barrel of ale. There were cheers as she quickly walked to her mother's room.

Knocking gently as to not aggravate her mother's headache, Sansa lowly piped that it was her. Her mother beckoned her, and she flit to her mother's side.

"My fierce rider, are they gone yet?" Lady Barbrey Dustin asked.

She had to smile, shake her head, and snort at her mother's silliness. 

"Nay, Mother, they are still here. The Warden is a mute and his heir apparently stole his father's voice unfortunately with the way he prattles incessantly." Sansa made a show of sighing and rolling her eyes. Mother said she was always too dramatic but loved her daughter's silliness.

It was now her mother's turn to snort. "So you have not fallen in his spell like the silly chits?"

At first, Sansa thought Mother knew but then realized she meant young lord Robb, not his bastard brother. But she quickly recovered and laughed, feeling badly for his future wife. 

"My little rider, my light, my love, one day you would not snort, not scoff when you meet the one you will wed, a man truly worthy of you. You are of age soon."

"Mother, I do not want to leave you or our home."

"I do not want you to leave. You are our heir. Your father had no brothers or uncles. You will stay here... I heard from the chits that you were like a queen tonight. You make me so proud, such a strong, smart girl."

They hugged. Her mother's thin frame held her more voluptuous body that she hid from view with dark colored dresses her mother favored. Sansa would make her mother proud. She knew her mother would make her a good match.

Normally she rode every morn, but he was there. Sansa dismissed her morning guards who rode with her, saying that there was much to do. It was true partly as she wanted to review again the existing contracts and the notations her mother made on what terms were most important, what concessions can made (almost none) and what they wanted (more than what the current contract her beloved late father negotiated). She would be the only other person besides the castellan in the meeting on her mother's side.

Numbers were not her strength, but her mother said one can not have all the riches. One needed to be always hungry and work hard and more importantly smart, never complacent like the damn Starks who had done nothing to further the North. As she walked towards the meeting, her mind was so caught up on the coming negotiations that she bumped into the bastard who blocked her way.

"Lady Sansa, I requested the boys to house me in the barracks instead of the barn. I did not want to disrupt your routine, your morning ride... A-and I am sorry for laughing at you yesterday."

"I have an important meeting to attend to - that is why I did not ride this morn," she sniffed.

"As do I."

She was shocked that he would be present during the negotiations. What type of man is the Warden who would bring his bastard to such meeting? Was Mother correct that he thought so little of her mother, her house? 

When they walked in together, her mother looked shocked, but quickly recovered. She had a private meeting with the Warden before the formal negotiations. It was only the four of them - neither her mother's castellan nor the Stark heir were present.

Mother looked sadly at her and whispered hoarsely that the deal had been negotiated. All their terms accepted. But there was no joy in her eyes. Sansa looked suspiciously at the Warden, knowing that he must have forced her mother in accepting something she did not want. As the Warden and as there were no male descendants in House Dustin, Lord Eddard had the power to marry her to anyone he pleased. He must have used that as a sword over her mother's head. Could he have forced her mother to wed her uncle Roose or, gods forbid, Ramsay?

Standing tall, Sansa said defiantly that House Dustin would never bow to any man, and especially not to a Stark. 

It was then her mother apologetically whispered that it was too late and left the room. Mother never lied - her words were her honor. She had spoken - it must be done. But yet there must always be other ways to skin a cat. Her mother always found a way out of impossible situations, and she would too for her mother's sake.

The Warden said, "You are just as spirited and accomplished as your mother. We have negotiated the terms of your betrothal. There would be no dowry but instead a generous bride price was paid to your house. You are to wed my son, Jon." 

_Mother, what have you done?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned gives Jon the talk, to prepare him. Everyone tells Jon what to expect at Barrowton, and he realizes that no matter if he had years and years to prepare, he would not be ready.

Jon cursed himself - he was a fool to let Robb and that arse Theon convince him to go to the brothel with them. When he was there, he felt so awkward even though he drank more than he usually did. The women were beautiful, but he thought it was just so sad. Maybe it was the ale that made him maudlin. He wanted more than a fuck - he wanted someone who truly cared for him. He wanted a lady wife to cherish, trueborn children to raise and a place to really call home where people did not see him merely as honorable Ned's mistake. From the rumors he overheard, Jon knew that even the whores had unplanned pregnancies; and he did not want to have any bastards. Everyone at the brothel seemed to be laughing at him, calling him so many names. He ran. Closing his eyes, he wanted to forget the whole night. His head hurt so much.

Knock, knock.

"Jon?" asked Ned.

Fuck! He opened the door and to his dismay, his grave faced father stood in front of him. Jon smelled like hard alcohol and also like the brothel as some of the girls rubbed their sweaty perfumed bodies on him. Could this night get any worse? Would Lady Catelyn come in next to lecture him about propriety?

"I-I am sorry - I will never go there a-a-gain." Jon looked down.

"What did I tell you about promises?" Ned asked.

Still looking down so he did not see Ned trying hard to not smile, Jon replied woodenly, "Don't make any you cannot keep... But Father, I am never going back."

Ned knew what happened to Jon at the brothel. Jory told Ned that the boys and the women mocked Jon and that Jon ran. He followed Jon home as he worried that Jon could not handle the alcohol and would slip on the icy ground. It reminded Ned of his equally horrific first time. In so many ways, when he looked at Jon, he saw himself, the quiet one who was absolutely hopeless with opposite sex with Robb reminding him somewhat of his older brother Brandon. Ned hoped that he was doing right by Jon, keeping him safe.

"It is time for you to be wed as it will soon be time for Robb.

Jon looked up in astonishment as he never expected to marry. No respectful family would let their daughter wed a bastard even if the bastard was the son of the Warden.

"We talked about respect being important pillar in any relationship. I want you to treat your wife with respect. Not the respect you think she deserves, but the respect you give to me. You would shame me and our House if you were to treat your wife poorly," said Ned.

Jon nodded but he still was shocked and confused. 

"Women are strong - they battle death, as surely as we do to defend our people, every time they bear our children. Women are smart - I do not have to tell you all the times that my wife was right and I was wrong. Women are skilled in ways that we do not understand - they make the seemingly impossible happen. Yet they are not perfect, but no man is. They are to be respected and appreciated. Do you understand?"

Again Jon nodded.

"You form a partnership with your wife. You first need to respect her and earn her trust and her friendship. Remember to listen to her when making decisions. Then when you have children, you will be united in the raising of your children."

Jon saw how Father also treated Lady Catelyn with respect and love; and how she, in turn, did the same. Yet Father did not say anything about love, only possibly friendship with his wife. Perhaps he should not expect love as the poor lady was saddled with a bastard. He decided to stay silent, not to ask his father about love. He nodded more slowly, and Father continued to explain his plans for him.

"Know that I am trusting you to shepherd a house back to our fold, to unite our two houses and to bind them. I am asking much from you as you represent our House, you represent me," said Ned.

He thought of all the Northern houses but could not recall them like the way his younger half sister Bronwen did by rote. The only houses he knew that had clashes with House Stark in the past was House Bolton. But he did not think Lord Roose Bolton had any daughters, true born or otherwise. It must be a lesser house, but he could not complain. He would do his best for Father, to make him proud.

"Father, I will do my best," Jon vowed. 

"Aye, I know you will. You will be safe. We will ride out in a fortnight's time."

Once Father left, he realized he had no idea who he would wed or where they were going to ride out. The more he thought about his conversation with his father, the more confused he was. Was it a dream? He drank a lot that night. He was so tired. Maybe it was all a dream.

It was not a dream afterall. It was horrible being told by the braying arse Theon who his bride would be - Lady Sansa of House Dustin, the Blue-eyed Winter Rose who was known to have many sharp thorns like her mother, Lady Barbrey Ball-busting Dustin as Theon named her, before her. Theon kept telling him to beware of his "Crown Jewels," lewdly pointing at his balls. 

What was worst was the sympathetic looks he got from others. Many in the Winterfell met or heard of her. They say her beauty is as sharp as her tongue. She apparently made Smalljon cry when she refused his suit but he knew that must be a lie. There was no way a young lady could make a strong warrior like Smalljon cry. Also, they were both heirs to their respective houses which were so far from each other. They say she will wear the pants in their marriage and would rule over him, with many making the "whipped" arm motion. 

Robb met with him and told him that he was lucky that he knew who his bride would be. The thing was that they were all teasing him. Robb met Lady Sansa before and recalled that she was quite serious just like Jon was. She loved to ride like Jon did. She was a Northerner like Jon. And she was pretty like Jon which made them both laugh. His spirits were lifted by Robb's talk although he could not help but feel nervous. Would Lady Sansa hate him?

As Jon rode to Barrowton, he still did not understand Father's decision. Jon could not see his marriage to Lady Sansa uniting their houses, but instead thought it would further divide them. Would House Dustin view it as an insult, having their beautiful heiress wed to a bastard? Even he was aware of Lady Barbrey's anger towards the Starks. He heard of the scandal involving Father's older brother, Brandon, but he could not bring himself to ask Father, like how he could not bring himself to ask about his real mother. 

With each day closer to the destination, Jon felt more unease especially when he saw Father's grave face. The fifty men his father chose to ride with them were his most seasoned fighters. There were no women and almost no laypersons, other than the cook who was a retired battle worn soldier himself. He noted that they circled protectively around Robb and especially him, all heavily armored and armed to the hilt. They looked like they were ranging against brigands and the wildlings, not visiting a loyal vassal.

Jon would always remember that exact moment he saw his bride to be. Lady Sansa stood proudly in front of her household, tall and so beautiful. It was true what they said about her beauty - so sharp that it cuts a man down at his knees. He almost fell off his horse, and he saw that many of the riders felt the same way. There was a collective gasp, and many of the men looked down in embarrassment at their reaction. Only Father and Robb looked up proudly at the greeting line. On behalf of her mother who was taken in ill, Lady Sansa greeted the Stark party. Her voice was surprisingly loud and clear as she said, without error, the traditional Northern words of greeting, but there was a distinct lack of warmth in her behavior. There was steel in Father's eyes as he waited for the traditional bread and salt offering that had to come from her own hands. But the young Lady mechanically performed the guest rites, without showing any sign of nervousness and seemingly oblivious to the tension from the Stark party. The only awkward moment when she quickly pulled her hands away from Father's hands at the end. Lady Sansa did not even look at Jon. Jon always thought that Lady Catelyn was an intimidating presence but this young lady was even more so. She was perfect and perfectly humorless. No joy - there would be no joy in his marriage.

When Jon was directed to his room, he and Jory who was assigned to be his personal guard were surprised that he was led to the barn even though the barn was spacious and airy. The ceilings were high, and the sleeping bunk room in the stables for the groomsmen were comfortable. What did not surprise him was the beauty and strength of their horses - the Dustin/Ryswell horses were well known in the Kingdom. When he saw the Stark horses next to theirs, there was such a marked difference in size and height - the Stark horses looked like ponies next to their horses. Jory laid himself down in the bunk room while Jon wanted to look at the majestic horses, the most striking was the red horse, with hair the color of the hair of the young lady of the House. 

That lady somehow sneaked into the barn and was affectionately talking to her red horse. It was in this candid moment with her beloved horse that he saw another side of her, one he hoped to know better. He had to laugh when her horse slobbered on her. 

Of course, he ruined everything as he saw her walk stiffly away! Fuck! Did he just say that she was no lady? Father would be so upset with him yet Jory was chuckling unperturbed, saying something cryptically about the lady protesting so much. It did not surprise him that he was not invited to the dining hall. Father told him that was just an error as Lady Barbrey was unwell, but Jon knew that his father was wrong. 

After dinner, he would talk to Father and confess the disrespect he shown to Lady Sansa. The betrothal was likely over even before it was formally announced. Suddenly Jon felt eyes staring at him. Thinking it was one of the flirtatious serving girls, the ones that Theon would bed, Jon tried to ignore it until he could not anymore. Turning around, he stared into her blue eyes. He felt like he was drowning, couldn't breathe. There was something in her eyes that challenged him - she was not like anyone he met before. And he knew he wanted her. Jon would apologize to her and do better. Looking into her eyes, he knew he could make it up to her. She desired him too.

Although they were a initially bit leery of conversing with a bastard of a Stark, his dining companions became voluble once the new barrel of ale was opened and their young lady left the hall. Jon found out that she loved her daily horse rides and that she rode almost as well as poor dead Domeric, who was like a brother to her. The household was quite fond of Lady Sansa. They spoke of how she at such a young age had been taking on many tasks and responsibilities for her mother who greatly suffered from headaches. Jon was surprised that not one truly harsh word was said about her, even from the younger girls, with the only regret being that she no longer laughed as she did when Domeric graced their home. They loved her laughter. She was such a happy child, their light. While they loved Lady Sansa, the household was equally loyal to Lady Dustin who ruled wisely and made vast improvements to their lives, making sure they were all prepared for the hard winters. They took pride in her reputation of being harder than ice, sharper than steel.

Jon awoke early and spent much time getting ready. Jory laughed at him as he wore his best tunic and tried to tame his curls. But she did not come. With a sinking feeling, Jon knew that she was avoiding him. Perhaps he read her looks wrongly - instead of attraction, perhaps it was hatred.

He waited by her door as her household guards glared at him. But nothing matched the anger in her eyes when she ran into him. With flashing eyes and flared nostrils, she lied to him about the main reason for not riding. They were so close that he could see the light freckles on her dainty nose. He could see her body tremble when they walked quickly to her mother's solar.

It was when Jon saw her with her mother that he understood her behavior. The pure loathing in her mother's eyes made him almost gasp. Lady Barbrey was far from happy about the betrothal of her daughter to him. She swept out of the room. Jon then looked at Lady Sansa and saw her stand even taller, looking accusingly at Father's eyes with her chin pointed up. Her words to Father were so angry ('House Dustin would never bow to any man, and especially not to a Stark') - she lost of her temper as she did in the stables. And when Father told her, it was as if she turned into an ivory statue. There was no expression - her face hardened into a mask. She would not even look at him. Yet Jon saw the same look of pure hatred in her eyes as was in her mother's eyes as she stared mutely at his father.

_Father, what have you done?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still trying to find Jon's voice - will likely continue to edit and revise...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired heavily by Maya Angelou's "Still I Rise".

It took every ounce of her will power to not break in front of Lord Stark and her bastard betrothed. She stood there, willing herself to not cry or show any weakness. She was her mother's daughter - she will not be broken.

She recalled what her mother told her time and time again -

 _'You may write me down in history_  
_With your bitter, twisted lies,_  
_You may trod me in the very dirt_  
_But still, like dust, I'll rise.'_

Sansa straightened her back, raised her chin, towering over that arse who was her betrothed. She knew that he knew, they all knew. Now she understood the gravity of the guest rites, recalling how armed and nervous the Stark men were. Had she forgot the steps or even refused, she and her men could cut the Stark men down. But no, she did not think of such things. And she knew that such treacherous thoughts were beneath House Dustin, beneath her mother and father. They had honor, unlike the so-called honorable Starks.

The Warden was still speaking, words she did not hear or would believe even if she heard. What did he have over Mother? What threats? Sansa could not imagine her mother would sold her off, she being her heir as Father's family had no male offsprings. Mother loved her.

In her mind, she repeated 'I rise' until that sick feeling in her stomach subsided, the bile that threatened to empty her stomach onto the Warden's shoes. She smirked as she thought how fitting it would be if she were to vomit on his shoes.

Finally, he stopped speaking, and she wheeled out, almost running to the stable. She raced as far as Mother allowed with her guards still trying to catch up to her. Sansa forgot herself, forgot her people. She had a duty to them.

As Tomas, her most protective guard, finally caught up, she quickly apologized to the poor man, the man who taught her so much and who cared for Mother and her, and they both immediately tended to his poor horse, rubbing it down and checking it for any injuries. Her horse was so much faster than his bay. His horse luckily was well, and her other guards finally arrived, forming a large protective ring around her.

"Your boy tried to follow but we did not let him," Tomas spoke quietly.

"Not mine, never mine," she hissed angrily.

"He is yours - whether you are his, well, that is another thing. Your Lady spoke to me... He is to be legitimized, take your name, stud future Dustin heirs. When the time comes and your mother's mantle is passed to you, your word would be the word, not his."

They both loved Mother and knew that she was unwell for some time. It was not much a secret in Barrowton, and she knew that there were many rumors outside of her mother's ill health, many saying it was only her spite that kept her upright. It was not true - Mother was hanging on for her, until she was ready, wanting to give her a carefree childhood. She looked down sadly, deflated as she knew her mother was trying to protect her and their people. With the Starks now firmly behind them and their ties with the Boltons, House Dustin was secure. This betrothal was a way to extend their proud line - they were of the First Men, the best of riders, the fiercest of the fighters of the North.

"She needs you," he sadly whispered, "It is finally time."

She nodded, knowing that Mother needed them both as much as they needed Mother. It was bittersweet as she knew Mother felt so much guilt for the betrothal as well as relief. Mother always said that the weight of responsibility wore her down - "Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown." While the Northern houses swore fealty to House Stark, each led and run their keep and nearby region independently.

Sansa hoped that she would be ready, that she would make them proud. Tomas held her hand, tethering her and staying her hysteria. She was not yet six and ten, yet she is asked to hold the line for the North, the southernmost border, their home a wooden keep not protected by any natural defenses but only defended by the fierceness of the men and the ruthless cunning of their women. As her mother held the line so would she.

Patrik, the commander of their troop, swung down and bowed to her. They all knew Mother would be ceding her power tonight.

Eyebrows lifted, he asked, "They are in east wing, no Stark guards in the perimeter. The boy has been moved to the wing, along with his keeper."

Sansa knew what he was asking. If she were a Bolton, the answer would be easy. A test. Tomas looked upon her expectantly.

Discretely, she shook her head and then said, "We shall make it back now. Tomas, ride with me."

When they rode back at much more leisurely pace, Sansa saw her betrothed's eyes widen to see her riding her horse with one of her guards. The Stark men were murmuring among themselves. Idiots all! Tomas was like a father. Perhaps it was better that Jon understood that she could do what she wanted - that bastard (for that was what he was for not telling her of the betrothal) had no control over her.

Without stopping but nodding to the Warden and his sons in greeting (one must not forget one's courtesies Mother always said), she walked towards her mother's room. The guards let her in.

Mother was on the floor weeping, and she felt so ashamed that she run off. Sansa held her, whispering how much she loved her mother.

"You are not angry?" Mother asked.

"I am... but not at you... I understand that we cannot let our House die - better the Warden's bastard than, than Ramsay.. Wait, the Warden threaten you with this????"

Lady Barbrey's head sank low.

It all made sense not only why but now the how. She underestimated Lord Stark, thinking him weak and never imagining that he would use her mother's greatest fears for her against her mother. Sansa knew now not to underestimate Jon if he had any of that cruel cunning that his father had.

Placing her forehead against her mother, she fiercely whispered, "We will rise. No man, no Stark, no Snow will keep us down. We will rise."


	4. Chapter 4

When Sansa and Lady Barbrey entered the feasting hall, the crowd immediately quieted. Everyone's eyes were drawn to the ladies who seemed to tower over everyone. Many of their household actually bowed their heads in respect while Jon suppressed the urge to fling himself on the ground and beg for forgiveness - he knew that he should have said something to her before the meeting with Father. It was clear that she not expect their betrothal, and he did understand how she could be affronted, the heir of a great House being married to a bastard.

Lady Barbrey was wearing the darkest black (so dark that it seemed to shimmer hints of purple and blue and red) velvet gown while Sansa was wearing a blood red gown that matched her hair and full lips. They walked slowly side by side, with their hands held together. Cheers of "House Dustin", "We will ride!", and "Long may she ride!" filled the room. The Barrowton ranging party returned, and the hall overflowed with armed men.

When Lady Barbrey stood next to Lord Stark, Father automatically flinched back slightly.

"House Dustin will not die - we will ride! Today is a new chapter. It is time. My daughter Sansa, our light and our pride, is succeeding me as Lady of House Dustin; and her consort will be Lord Jon Stark, the newly legitimized son of Lord Ned Stark, Warden of the North. Their children and their children's children will be Dustins. We shall ride!"

Lady Barbrey raised her daughter's arm high; and she turned to Jon, grabbing and raising his arm, as the crowd cheered. No one dared to jeer with her fierce eyes upon the crowd. Sansa smiled gently at her mother, whispering that she would do her best to make her mother proud; and her mother in turn replied that she was already proud. Being so close to these statuesque women, he felt the love and respect they had for each other. Then Lady Barbrey put their two hands together and nodded at her daughter.

Sansa moved forward with Jon's hand in hers as her mother stepped slightly back.

Sansa started softly but her voice grew stronger.

"I heed the call and will do my duty to you and to our House. I join House Dustin with House Stark, two great Houses of the North. House Dustin will not die - we will ride!"

The hall bursted in cheers and applause.

Jon stared in wonder at his betrothed, how she commanded the attention of the room. Sansa had her mother's presence but also a sense of humility and grace. When she looked at the crowd, her eyes were sparking with excitement. He noted that she smiled at some of the guards that rode in that day; and they blushed and smiled back at her. Her household were cheering even louder than they did for her mother. She was basking in their adoration, blushing so prettily.

Without thinking, he kissed her lips. The crowds cheered even louder. He could feel Father's shock and Lady Barbrey's anger behind him but he did not care as her lips were so soft and sweet tasting, tasting of the sweet wine she drunk before she entered the hall. She trembled as they kissed, and returned his kiss. After hearing the clearing of Father's throat, he reluctantly stepped back and watched her radiantly smile at him and looking at him in wonder. 

They sat side by side flanked by their respective disapproving parent. During the feast, he did not know what he was putting in his mouth as he only noticed her sitting next to him. Admonished by her mother, she moved slightly further from him and did not look at him. But he could still see her blushing smiles, which made him smile like the biggest and luckiest fool.


End file.
